Strike Three
by AliasCWN
Summary: Saunders and the squad face a puzzle that has serious implications.


**Strike Three**

By: AliasCWN

Present:

"Saunders, are you sure you're ready to go back out on patrol?"

"Yes Lieutenant, I'm ready. Two weeks in the hospital and another week on light duty and I'm definitely ready to be back."

"It's a good thing that truck broke down and that patrol stumbled onto it or you'd be on your way to a POW camp by now Sarge."

Saunders glanced over at Caje and admitted that the Cajun was right. "It was good for me…maybe not so much for you."

"Why's that Sarge?" Kirby asked as he walked up to hear the end of the conversation.

"Cause now you're stuck with me again.

Three weeks earlier:

Saunders forced his heavy eyelids open to look around. The constant ebb and flow of orders and instructions echoed inside of his head. The antiseptic smell told him that he was in a medical facility but he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. As his eyes started to focus he tried to concentrate on the conversation but he couldn't understand any of the words. Of course, the fact that almost everyone other than him was wearing a German uniform could have gone a long way toward explaining his confusion. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he drew the attention of a harried medic.

"Don't move Sergeant, you'll reopen your wound."

The English was heavily accented forcing Saunders to really listen in order to understand.

"Where am I?" He croaked as the medic rushed to his side.

"You're in one of our aid stations." The German medic explained. "You were shot during a battle earlier today. You were brought here for treatment before being moved on to the prisoner processing center."

The sergeant nodded his understanding although he still couldn't remember being hit. "What about my men?"

"Your men…, the medic explained, "fought hard to reach you, but ultimately, they failed. We have several of our own men here who can attest to how hard they fought. Your men were forced to retreat without you."

"Were any of them hurt?"

"I don't know sergeant. You are the only one brought to this aid station from that particular battle. There are four other Americans here but they were brought in later and from a different area." The medic pressed firmly on his shoulder and insisted that Saunders lay back. "You need to rest Sergeant; you lost quite a bit of blood."

Saunders looked down at his own body, noting the bandages wrapped around his ribs. The thick gauze pads had a spot of red but it didn't look like it was getting any larger. Taking a deep breath, the sergeant tried to determine just how incapacitated he was in case an opportunity presented itself. The shot of pain as his lungs expanded made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere under his own power.

"Just rest Sergeant; a truck will be here soon to pick up you and the others." The medic pronounced, not unkindly. With a final pat on the wounded man's shoulder, the medic moved on to his next patient.

Saunders closed his eyes and tried to relax. He found that if he stayed perfectly still, and kept his breathing shallow, the pain was bearable. Trying to rest, he concentrated on his breathing.

"I told you, take me to your Commander; I have important information for him!"

Saunders opened his eyes to see a tall red-headed man with his arm in a sling arguing with the medic.

"Just take me to your Commander, he'll recognize me. He's waiting for me."

Saunders tried to focus his eyes but everything stayed blurry. He turned his head for a better look but the movement brought the pain back. With a heavy sigh the sergeant slipped back into the darkness.

He was still unconscious when the truck arrived to take him and the four other wounded Americans to the prisoner processing center. The five men were loaded into the rear of the truck with one guard and a driver and sent on its way. That's when 'fate' took a hand. Shortly after leaving the aid station the truck broke down. An American patrol, lost and looking for a way back to their own line, stumbled upon the disabled vehicle. After killing the two Germans and rescuing the five wounded American prisoners, one of them got the truck running and they returned to the American lines.

Back to the present:

"All right Sergeant, if you're sure you're ready; headquarters wants someone to scout this area here and make sure that the Germans haven't taken up residence in an old abandoned mill, about here." Hanley showed Saunders on the map the area he wanted checked and pointed out the location of the mill.

"Okay Lieutenant," the sergeant acknowledged, "we should be back by dark."

"You'd better be Sergeant." The Lieutenant responded. "Artillery is planning a barrage in that sector tonight to discourage the Germans from moving in."

"Then why are we going in?"

"To make sure that they aren't already there and dug in."

Saunders sighed. "All right Lieutenant, we'll check it out."

"Don't overdo it Saunders; we don't want you landing back in the hospital." Lieutenant Hanley voiced his concern softly, glancing at the rest of the squad as they stood nearby.

"We'll keep our eyes on him Lieutenant." Caje promised with a grin.

"You do that." Lieutenant Hanley agreed. "I'll see you back here tonight."

"What was that?" Saunders demanded as soon as the officer walked away. "I don't need anyone to keep an eye on me; I'm fine."

"Sure you are Sarge," Caje agreed, "but we always keep our eyes on each other. Why should this time be any different?"

The Sergeant snorted his response. "Move out, we have a ways to go before dark. Caje, take point."

For a half hour they made their way toward the old abandoned mill. As they came to a small stream Saunders called a halt to give Caje time to check to make sure the crossing was safe. They were still in American held territory, close to their lines, so they spread out to take their break.

"How are you doing Sarge?" Littlejohn asked as Saunders walked by.

"Fine, don't worry about me."

"Just asking Sarge, we almost lost you that last time."

"Not your fault Littlejohn." Saunders answered as something tickled his memory.

"I heard they caught the traitor." Trying to change the subject, Billy mentioned the first thing that came to his mind.

"About time." Kirby growled. "That guy is responsible for getting a lot of our guys killed."

"Who was he?" Brockmeyer asked.

Billy had to think for a minute before he could remember all of the details of what he had heard. "According to the guy who told me, his name was Lester White. He worked at headquarters for the Major."

"Corporal White?"

Billy nodded to Kirby. "Yeah, that's the one."

"I don't believe it! I knew that guy and he never struck me as the kind of guy who would sell out to the enemy. Did he confess?"

"Naw, never got a chance." Billy shook his head. "When they confronted him he tried to escape. When they caught up to him they had to shoot him; he's dead."

"How can they be sure he's the traitor then?" Kirby demanded. "Maybe he had some other reason for running."

Billy shook his head again. "They found a couple of top secret files on him when they searched him. He wasn't supposed to even have access to those files."

"Don't that beat all." The BAR man frowned with a shake of his head. "I would 'a sworn that White was the last guy who would have turned traitor."

Saunders listened to the exchange but his mind had drifted back to the German aid station.

"Look out!" Caje called from across the stream.

"Grenade!" Kirby yelled as he glimpsed a figure behind some trees toss something in their direction.

Littlejohn fired a burst of bullets toward the trees as he ducked for cover.

Saunders hit the ground and rolled behind some rocks as the ground shook with the explosion. Dirt, rocks, and parts of plants rained down on him as he covered his head with his arms. Over the ringing in his ears he could hear his men shooting into the trees.

"Are you all right Sarge?" Saunders shook his head as Caje ran up and knelt next to him.

"Get down Caje!" Saunders reached up and grabbed his scout by the arm. "There may be more of them out there!"

"No Sarge." Caje answered confidently. "I didn't see anyone else. Heck Sarge, I didn't even see him."

"Well if you missed one you could have missed others, get down."

"The others are checking but I don't think there's anyone else out there. It looks like just one and he took off in a hurry. Are you sure you're all right Sarge?"

Getting to his knees, Saunders looked around to locate all of his men. One by one they returned to report that the grenade throwing assailant had escaped.

"It looks like the Germans have decided to move into this sector after all." Saunders declared. "I'm just a little surprised that they got this close without someone else running into them."

"Do we go on or do we go back and report this to the Lieutenant?" Littlejohn asked.

"We go on." Saunders ordered. "Our orders were to see if they were dug in at that old mill. That hasn't changed." Saunders paused as he noticed Kirby standing to one side. "Do you have a problem with that Kirby?"

"Not that Sarge." Kirby answered with a shake of his head but he still looked bothered.

"Is something bothering you Kirby?" Saunders challenged.

"Yeah Sarge," Kirby nodded with a worried frown. "I think that guy was after you."

"Maybe." Saunders admitted with a shrug. "Go after the leaders. That's a tactic they've used before." He noticed that Kirby still seemed disturbed. "Go ahead Kirby; get it off of your chest."

"I'm not sure Sarge," Kirby admitted, looking toward the rest of the squad, "but I got a quick glimpse of that guy." He hesitated as a worried frown crossed his face. "I could have sworn the guy was wearing an American uniform."

"You're crazy Kirby." Caje laughed good-naturedly. "An American would have looked before he tossed that grenade. He would have realized we were Americans too."

"I'd agree with you Caje but I'm pretty sure he was wearing an American uniform." Kirby held stubbornly to his story.

The others looked around uneasily, worried about the implications if Kirby were correct.

"You said that you only got a quick look; that's not enough to go on." Saunders tried to ease their worries. "Come on, we have a job to do."

The rest of the patrol was uneventful. The old abandoned mill was empty when they searched it, relieving their fears that the Germans had taken up residence.

While giving Lieutenant Hanley his report Saunders mentioned Kirby's concerns in passing but he didn't give the idea much credence. Finished with the report he made his way to the area assigned to his squad.

As he walked toward the area where his squad was bivouacked he had to pass a long line of trees standing back off of the road. With his thoughts on Kirby's revelation, he completely missed the slight movement as somebody ducked behind a tree trunk. Some sixth sense warned him just in time to duck the knife thrown his way. He dove for the ditch that ran parallel to the road and as the knife flashed across in front of him. He hit the ditch and rolled, expecting his attacker to continue the assault. The sound of footsteps fading into the distance announced the departure of his would-be assassin. Rising to his feet he brushed off as much of the dirt and mud as he could and went to the trees to look for evidence. After a careful search he was forced to admit that there wasn't anything there to help identify the assailant. Whoever his attacker had been, he had not left any helpful clues behind. He arrived at the bivouac area looking preoccupied.

"Everything all right Sarge?" Caje called as he noticed the dirt and mud on the sergeant's uniform.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." Saunders answered.

Caje wasn't buying it.

"What happened Sarge?"

Saunders looked up to see the others watching him intently. "Someone threw a knife at me on my way over here. They were waiting for me in that long line of trees that run along the road. He ran off before I could get a look at him."

"Who'd you make mad Sarge?" Kirby asked. "I knew I saw an American uniform."

"I don't know of anyone with a reason to kill me." Saunders answered softly. "I haven't had any trouble with anyone that I can remember."

"We'd better get to the bottom of it before this guy is successful." The Cajun warned.

"How are we going to catch him?" Kirby looked at the others as they gathered around the small group centered on the sergeant. "We're behind you but we need a plan."

"I don't know." Saunders answered softly. "It would help if we had some idea who he was."

Caje looked to the others for agreement as he promised to stay alert for another attempt.

"Are we going to tell Lieutenant Hanley about this latest attempt?"

Saunders nodded at Littlejohn's question. "I think he needs to know." He picked up his bedroll, "I'll do it tomorrow. Right now I need some sleep."

Caje caught Brockmeyer's eye and motioned for him to meet him off to the side. "Someone needs to stay on guard while Sarge sleeps. If you take first watch I'll take Kirby and check around to make sure there's no one else out there."

"You got it Caje."

Caje took Kirby and the two of them searched the area thoroughly. Satisfied that there was no one out there they returned to the camp and set up a guard rotation.

The next morning the entire squad accompanied Saunders to headquarters to find Lieutenant Hanley. While Saunders filled the officer in on the latest attempt on his life, the rest of the squad stood guard.

On their return to their camp, Caje went ahead to check the area around the camp. Kirby and Brockmeyer stayed in front of Saunders while Doc, Billy, and Littlejohn dropped behind to watch his back. Caje was waiting in the camp when they arrived.

"Everything looks clear Sarge. Maybe, just to be safe, you should lay low."

"No." Saunders headed directly for his bedroll. "I'm not letting anybody scare me into hiding. Not in my own camp and not in my own base. Now that I know he's out there I'll be more vigilant. Sooner or later he's going to make a mistake and we'll catch him." Reaching for his gear, Saunders froze. A thin wire wrapped around the strap of his pack caught his eye. "Everybody get back!"

"What's wrong?" Caje demanded.

"It looks like someone booby-trapped my gear." Dropping to his knees, the sergeant very carefully traced the wire with his fingers. "I said get back!" He shouted as his squad crowded closer for a better look. The shuffling of feet told him that they were obeying orders even if they were slower than he would have liked.

He traced the wire to the pin of a live grenade that was tucked under a rock at the base of a nearby wall. The pin had been pulled far enough out that the slightest pressure would have detonated the grenade. With slow, shaking hands he held the wire tight as he pushed the pin back into place. With an audible sigh he picked up the inert grenade.

"Strike three." Brockmeyer whispered into the silence.

"Caje, check the area again. Make sure he didn't hang around to check on the results of his little surprise."

"Right Sarge." Jerking his head at Kirby, the Cajun disappeared into the woods outside the clearing.

The explosion shook the trees around him as Caje searched the area for the assailant. Looking back toward the camp, he caught Kirby's eye and jerked his head toward the sound. They ran back into the camp to find Doc working over an obviously unresponsive Saunders. There were bloody bandages wrapped around his head and upper body. Doc was pressing on the mass of gauze with both hands as he yelled for Littlejohn to hurry.

"What happened?"

"Booby-trap." Doc answered loudly. "Sarge never saw it." The medic worked on Saunders, pawing through his kit for more supplies. Billy and Littlejohn ran up with a makeshift stretcher and placed it next to Saunders. They loaded the sergeant onto the stretcher and headed for headquarters and the medical aid station.

Lieutenant Hanley met them along the way with a jeep as he rushed to investigate the explosion. They loaded Saunders into the back of the jeep, along with Doc, and Hanley took off to get him to the help he needed.

"There's nothing we can do until he gets out of surgery." Brockmeyer called loudly to Caje. "Let's go see if we can find anything to help us catch this guy."

"Shouldn't we go with Sarge?" Billy called just as loudly.

"No, Doc says he'll pull through. They'll keep him at medical for now. No one will bother him there."

Caje looked from Brockmeyer to Billy and wondered why they were yelling when they could just as easily walk over and talk in a normal tone. He considered that they may have been too close to the explosion and were over compensating for the temporary ringing in their ears.

"You coming Caje? Kirby?" Brockmeyer called.

"Yeah." The Cajun nodded thoughtfully. "I want to catch this guy."

Turning back, the squad retraced their steps. On the way, Brockmeyer, Littlejohn, and Billy filled Caje and Kirby in on what had happened.

Saunders lay in the medical tent and listened as the guard paced in front of his tent. Slowly, back and forth like clockwork, the guard stayed with the exact same routine. Saunders thought that you could set a watch by his actions. Every third pass of the door the guard would alter his path to take him around the back and into an alley that was full of shadows that could hide a person. He would spend exactly one minute in that alley before returning to his earlier position. His tuneless whistle would follow his progress as he made his search of the shadows.

The sun set and still the guard kept to the exact same routine. Saunders could hear his slow footsteps as he made his rounds.

The sergeant was dozing when a shadow slipped in through the door of his tent. Pretending to be asleep, he watched through half closed eyes as the shadow froze when the guard returned. As the time neared for the guard to go back into the alley, the shadow moved to the next bed. The dark form picked up a pillow off of the empty bed and stopped next to Saunders.

Saunders kept his breathing slow and shallow as if asleep. As the guard walked to the back of the tent the shadow leaned over the sergeant. Placing the pillow over the sergeant's face, he pressed down with all of his weight. Saunders struggled to breath, flinging his arms to the side in an attempt to pull the pillow away. His flailing arm hit a glass on the night stand and it crashed to the floor. By the time the assailant realized that Saunders was struggling much too hard for a badly wounded man, it was too late. The glass hit the floor, alerting the MPs stationed in the next tent. Saunders did not even need the pistol he had hidden under his blankets. The MPs had the assailant constrained before he had taken two steps. Someone lit a lantern and the identity of the would-be killer was finally revealed.

"Sergeant Fedder, what were you trying to do?"

"You know him?" Saunders stared at the surprised MP who had called the assassin by name.

"He's a clerk in the Captain's office." The MP answered. "He works in the same building as Corporal White. In fact, he's the one who caught Corporal White with the stolen documents and shot him."

"I've had my doubts about that." Major Reice said as he ducked through the door. "Corporal White didn't have access to the kinds of documents that were leaked."

"But Sergeant Fedder did, didn't he?" Lieutenant Hanley followed the Major through the door.

"Yes he did." The Major confirmed. "He had no need to access that information but he was in a position to get to it without anyone knowing about it."

"After going to all of that trouble to frame Corporal White, why risk it all to kill Sergeant Saunders?" Hanley asked the prisoner.

"He knew." Fedder admitted sullenly. "He saw me and heard me admit to being a traitor."

"When?" The Major eyed Saunders. "If you knew Sergeant Saunders, why didn't you report it?"

"I don't know what he's talking about Sir." Saunders declared in confusion.

"You saw me." Fedder repeated. "I let you live then because I figured you'd die in a POW camp of your injuries. You were no threat to me then. But then you were rescued before that could happen. You've got more lives than a cat Sergeant."

"Where? Where did I see you?" Saunders asked.

"In the German aid station." Fedder snarled. "You looked right at me. I caught you staring at me."

Saunders shook his head, a ghost of a memory trying to break free. "I couldn't have identified you. " He looked at the Major. "My eyes wouldn't focus. I heard voices but I couldn't even concentrate long enough to hear what they were saying. I realized that they were speaking in English but that's about all I got out of it."

Fedder's mouth dropped open in shock. "You really didn't know?"

"I really didn't know. I was heavily sedated and suffering from shock. If you had just stayed quiet and let it alone you might not have been caught."

Fedder stared at the sergeant, taking notice for the first time that he didn't look seriously hurt. "What about that booby-trap I set? I heard the grenade go off."

"Yeah, it went off, but only after I threw it. Brockmeyer thought that it might be a good way to flush you out, and it worked."

Fedder's eyes flashed with anger and he tried to step toward Saunders. The MPs grabbed his arms and pulled him back. "I'll get you for this Sergeant! I'll get you!" He was still screaming it as the MPs took him away.

"Well, that's over." Hanley sighed in relief.

"Yeah." Saunders agreed, listening to the yells fade into the distance.

"So Saunders, are you sure that you're ready to go back to work?"

Saunders eyed Hanley and shook his head. "You know Lieutenant; I may just need a day or two to rest up after all of this excitement."

Before the Lieutenant could form a response the tent was filled with bodies as the squad crowded in to check on their sergeant.


End file.
